


Dawn

by scarletbegonias37



Category: God’s Own Country, God’s Own Country (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Johnny being insecure as usual, M/M, only the tiniest hint of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:17:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbegonias37/pseuds/scarletbegonias37
Summary: BREXIT STRIKES. Johnny has a decision to make.





	Dawn

Johnny didn’t usually take time off from the farm to go and vote for most things, only if it was something that really affected his day-to-day life – “one rich bastard running the country is as good as another” had always been his father’s philosophy and it was his too. But this was something that affected his current daily life more than anything else, and it alarmed him when he mentioned to Deidre that he was thinking of going to the polling station, and she said firmly that she and Martin would too.

“D’ya really think it’s that close?” Johnny asked, feeling a bit sick. Deidre was a lot smarter about politics than he was, and if she was worried, it wasn’t good.

“Just trust me, lad, we’ll all regret it if we don’t,” Deidre responded in her typical grim fashion.

Later, after the Leave vote won on a heartbreakingly narrow margin, Johnny understood what she’d meant. If he hadn’t even bothered to do his part, he’d feel even shittier than he did now.

It was a little bit gratifying that most of Johnny’s neighbors didn’t seem very happy about the news either, although the county had gone firmly for Leave and the racists down at the pub were crowing happily enough about it. But almost all of the local farms used migrant labor, and a pall seemed to set over the area as everyone realized that as early as next summer, they might not be able to get any help -- or they’d have to pay three times the wages to some rich unskilled hippie kid up from the city who thought it was a “lark” to spend a summer on a farm. Those types always ended up spending most of their time smoking hash, damaging the equipment, and dodging the work. The local mood, accordingly, was low.

The worst part was that Gheorghe took the news very badly; he was clearly depressed. He wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows on a good day – he had an air of melancholy to him, and Johnny knew that he had seen too much suffering at too young of an age and didn’t like to talk about it much. And he’d seen Gheorghe’s temper before – god, he hoped he never saw it again. But this was different. Gheorghe was just downright sad, and there was nothing Johnny could do about the cause of it, which killed him. He couldn’t even think of anything to say to comfort him or even explain why this seemingly senseless act had occurred. _Sorry my country is full of super racist idiots?_ He didn’t think he had the right to say that considering how horrible and insensitive he’d been himself when they met, so at first, they just didn’t talk about it at all.

Having gone inside for a quick drink of water, Johnny lingered over the cup, looking out the window. The tractor had just stalled out again, and Gheorghe was letting out a string of what must be quite vulgar Romanian curses while slapping the steering wheel angrily. Johnny flinched. Gheorghe was usually so calm and easy-going, even with inanimate objects. To see him this upset was disturbing.

Deidre was edgy these days too, and was taking it out using her favorite method: scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom. “There is one thing you could do about it, you know,” she said sharply, without looking up from her task.

Johnny grimaced, and mumbled “Aye”. Deidre was from a different generation and culture, wherein people got married for a lot less. Little reasons like someone’s farm being in debt and their partner’s parents being conveniently wealthy. Or someone being five months pregnant. Or just for the simple fact that you needed a partner to make farm life possible, and you had to pick someone to settle down with sooner or later. She didn’t understand why Johnny was reluctant.

It’s not that he didn’t want to marry Gheorghe – someday. He’d certainly fantasized about it, many times. But there was one hard truth he kept butting his head up against: Gheorghe did NOT like to rush things. In fact, he downright refused to do so. It was a miracle that he’d even convinced Gheorghe to move in with him so quickly, and that was with the understanding that he’d not made any promises about the future beyond “yes, I will come back with you” and he could easily pick up and leave at any time, if he wanted.

It was absolutely insane to ask a man to marry you less than six months after you’d met. Wasn’t it?

Sharing the burdens of a farm as the owner’s boyfriend and coworker was one thing. Asking someone to take on all the obligations, physical and financial, and share them with you equally and permanently…well, again, asking him to do that when you hadn’t even known him for very long was mad. There was no other way to put it.

All those concerns were piled on top of the fact that the thought of asking Gheorghe to marry him, actually forming and saying the question out loud, absolutely terrified Johnny. But he could get past that – he’d made emotional hurdles before, with Gheorghe as his inspiration. What he knew he couldn’t get past would be Gheorghe saying no.

***

Johnny made an attempt to distract Gheorghe with sex. It didn’t require talking, it (hopefully) expressed something of how much he cared about Gheorghe, and let’s face it, he was feeling a little needy himself.

It worked…for about ten minutes, every time. Gheorghe was not an easily distracted person, but at least he seemed to enjoy the extra attention, and in any case, Johnny figured, he wasn’t likely to complain about constant blowjobs. Besides, Johnny liked to give them, loved to see Gheorghe’s eyes go glassy and then squeeze shut, his mouth open and moaning, one fist against his forehead and the other clutching at Johnny’s hair. God, the man was beautiful. Inspired, Johnny went at it with gusto, swallowing eagerly as Gheorghe’s throbbing cock pulsed and spilled down his throat.

Gheorghe brushed his knuckles against Johnny’s cheek gently and ran his hands through Johnny’s hair, urging him upwards so he could kiss him softly on the mouth. He was breathing heavily and smiling, which pleased Johnny to no end. He felt like it had been days, weeks since he’d seen that smile, and it was his drug. He was addicted to it, and he’d do anything to get it.

“Lately, you’re feeling very –“ Gheorghe paused. “What is the word? Amorous.”

“You mean horny,” Johnny said, resistant to romantic banter as ever, but he let himself be embraced and nuzzled nonetheless.

“I like the way I said it better,” Gheorghe murmured against his ear, reaching into his pants, and Johnny shivered all over with pleasure.

“Well, I am in love,” Johnny admitted quietly, and kissed him again, as deeply as he possibly could.

***  
It wasn’t easy to shock Trish, but this one got her, all right. “YOU, WEDDED?!?” she exclaimed, nearly knocking over her pint glass.

“You don’t have to be so loud,” Johnny mumbled, looking around the pub nervously, not that anyone would know them here. He’d picked a different place than the usual to meet Trish, on purpose. It was fifteen miles further away from the farm, and was an upscale tourist trap that Johnny loathed, but it was worth it to be able to have this discussion without anyone who knew him or his family listening in and immediately ringing Deidre up to ask when the ceremony would be.

“Wow. I must tell you, Johnny Saxby, I thought I’d never see the day.”

Johnny frowned. “I’m not the most unweddable person in the world. Or even at this table,” he added mischievously, and ducked as she swatted at him.

“It’s just that I remember a time not so long ago when you’d get offended if a fellow you’d been shagging for two years asked you on a date.”

“Well, yeah, this is different.”

“Must be,” Trish smirked, and leaned in. “Alright, let’s have it. Tell ol’ Trish the truth. How is he in bed?”

Johnny tried his best not to blush, but he could feel his ears growing hot and red. “That’s none of your concern, miss.”

Trish sat back, impressed. “Shagging your brains out, like a god. I knew it! I have been waiting for this day for YEARS. You’re finally sprung. Welcome to the world of lovelorn fools. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your stony heart has melted.”

Johnny had to grant Trish that she was loyal. They hadn’t talked in months, mostly because he didn’t want to answer any awkward questions about her friend who he’d hooked up with in the local that terrible night he’d almost ruined everything with Gheorghe. But when he contacted her, saying that it was important, she drove right up. They’d been really close once; in fact, they were best friends in secondary school. They’d drifted apart in recent years, but Johnny had to admit: he still liked Trish and she still made him laugh. And most importantly, she could keep a secret.

“It’s completely mad, right? It’s mental,” Johnny grimaced. “It’s a ridiculous idea. I just can’t think of any other way to make it work.”

“Ugh, these tired old idiots voting for Leave. That’s what’s mental. I’m sorry, I genuinely am,” Trish downed the rest of her lager and signaled to the bartender for another. “But I mean, you love him, you said. And that is the last thing I ever thought you would say about anyone, so I don’t know. Maybe you should just do it.”

“You reckon?” Johnny brightened up. Trish was a deeply cynical person, and he hadn’t expected such an optimistic reaction.

“Let’s sum it up,” Trish began to count off points on her fingers. “He said he loves you back, which means we must question his sanity, but we won’t hold that against him. He’s gorgeous, and that never hurts. He’s shagged you soft, apparently. He’s good with the farm. He’s helpful with your da. And your grandmother likes him, and she hasn’t liked anyone in 50 years.” She spread her hands out. “Honestly, this is a combination of miracles the likes of which I have never seen. I suggest you lock him down by whatever means necessary.”

Johnny smiled a little at that. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“It could not.” Trish paused for a long moment, looking him up and down appraisingly. “One thing I can say for certain. He’s good for you.”

Johnny couldn’t keep from grinning now. “How can you tell?”

“You’ve gained half a stone, you’re actually smiling, and we’ve been sitting here for an hour and you’ve not even finished your first pint. You look good. Healthy. He’s good for you,” Trish repeated, and smiled back at him. Then she continued, with a serious tone, “But there is one thing, one thing that you absolutely must not do, Saxby, under any circumstances, and if you do I will call the immigration office myself.”

  
“What’s that?”

“If you ask me to be a bridesmaid I’ll fucking kill you.”

***

The next day Johnny was in the barn, having his usual daily conversation with his favorite lamb. “So what d’ya think, Little Bit? Reckon he’ll say yes?” The lamb quirked its head at him. “I have my doubts as well,” he sighed.

“But you know what they say,” he continued as he forked more hay into the stalls, “nothing ventured, nothing gained. Fortune favors the bold and all that. To be or not to be.” Johnny wracked his head for more meaningful quotes while the lamb just stared back at him blankly. “You’re not doing a very good job of hyping me up, you know. I thought we were friends.”

Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin when Gheorghe poked his head round the barn door and asked, “Are you talking to the sheep again?”

Flustered, Johnny began shoveling hay like he was being timed for a race. “It’s good for their development,” he mumbled defensively. Gheorghe shook his head, but a smile played on his lips as he walked away, his eyes still on Johnny as he passed by the window. Johnny’s hands were twitching. That was a close call. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet after all.

***

Fortunately, he had a little more time to gear up his nerves; this was one situation where the dreadful slow movement of the British parliamentary process worked in his favor.

Deidre, however, was having none of it. One morning, she waited until she saw Gheorghe was outside of earshot of the house, while Johnny was still pulling his boots on, and slammed her hand down on the kitchen counter. “That’s it, lad. Enough fannying about. Why have you not asked him yet?!”

“It’s my business, nan, thank you very much!” Johnny spat out, startled.

“It’s my business too! That young man is keeping this farm afloat and keeping you sober and happy. If you let him go again you are a right fool, and I did not raise a fool.”

“I won’t!” Johnny protested, actually kind of touched that she’d used the word ‘happy’ – a concept that had never seemed to be a priority to her before. “I’m just – I can’t spring it on him all of a sudden. He barely knows me.”

“He knows you well enough, and you’d do well to ask for a commitment before he gets to know you any better,” she said brusquely.

“Thanks a ton, support’s always appreciated,” Johnny replied, and realized they had the exact same tone of voice. He wondered if that had always been the case and he was just now noticing it.

“I’m just telling you what you already know,” Deidre sniffed, and marched out of the room with dignity.

***

“What are you thinking about?”

Johnny snapped back to attention at the question. Gheorghe was paddling around the reservoir and Johnny was sitting on the dock, letting one foot dangle in the water. _I’m thinking about how to ask you to marry me in some way that won’t make you think I’m a crazy person._ “Nothing,” he replied.

Gheorghe just gave him one of his skeptical looks that clearly conveyed _It’s not nothing, but I’m not going to force it out of you_. He was so kind and patient with Johnny, always encouraging but never pushing. It made Johnny love him more and more. Gheorghe swam over to him, grabbed his foot and kissed it. “You should come in. It’s hot for once.”

“You’re hot.” Jphnny smiled down at him, and Gheorghe laughed, treading water.

“Trying to make me come get you,” he said with a sly look, splashing water at Johnny, who splashed him back with a kick of his leg. “Oh, so you want to play?” Gheorghe put one foot up on the ladder, and rose up swiftly, shaking his wet hair everywhere, and kissed Johnny full on the mouth. Johnny yielded to the kiss, enjoying the sensation of Gheorghe’s cold lips quickly growing warm — then yelped as Gheorghe wrapped his strong arms around him, lifted him and fell backwards, pulling him into the reservoir. He came up sputtering and laughing, and Gheorghe wrapped his arms around him again, spinning him around and around in the water.

Dizzy, weightless, flowing, graceful, buoyant. That’s how Gheorghe always made him feel.

***

Martin was ultimately the one who made up his mind.

They’d gone for a walk – well, Johnny was walking; Martin clearly was not. But he enjoyed being out in the sun and seeing the animals, so Johnny pushed him around the acres whenever he had the spare time. They didn’t usually talk much, just enjoyed the fresh air and the views. Martin was very limited in his speech these days, and he’d never been much of a chatter to begin with.

They were sitting near the wall on the ridge overlooking the house, watching the sun go down, when Martin startled Johnny by speaking up.

“Brexit.”

Johnny looked at him, eyes wide. “I know. It isn’t good.”

Martin pointed at him. “Worried. I can see.” Johnny nodded, silently. Martin made a sad face, and looked out at the sunset again. Without looking back at Johnny, he muttered, “Ask him”.

Johnny was fairly shocked. Martin loved him, he knew that, and he liked Gheorghe. He didn’t have to say it. The respect showed on his face when he saw Gheorghe working with the sheep, making cheese, helping Deidre around the house. He’d always respected people who worked hard, minded their business and didn’t make a fuss, and Gheorghe fit that bill perfectly. But Johnny certainly hadn’t expected that Martin, of all people, had been giving a single thought to the future of their relationship.

“I don’t know, da,” he began to respond slowly, struggling with what to say. “It’s so soon. He’s touchy about things. He misses his home, his family. And he hates the weather here.” He felt like he was grasping for excuses, but he didn’t want to hurt his father with what he really wanted to say. But, Martin rarely offered the opportunity for this kind of communication, and he may as well be honest while he had the chance. “I don’t want to push him too hard and make him want to leave,” he admitted, finally, and braced himself in anticipation of that icy steel look that his father was still capable of cutting him to his core with.

Martin surprised him again by only looking at him softly and kindly. He thumped his cane on the ground. “Not like Annie.” Johnny thought he might burst into tears. His father hadn’t said his mother’s name once since she left. “Good boy,” Martin continued. “Won’t leave. Trust. Ask.”

Johnny nodded again, unable to speak; despite himself, tears were welling up in his eyes and his throat was constricted. He reached over to touch his father’s hand, and his father grabbed and squeezed it tightly.

***

“Gheorghe. Gheorghe. Are you awake?” It was barely the crack of dawn, but Johnny felt like he’d been awake for hours. They’d gotten a bigger bed, but he still snuggled up closely to Gheorghe every night. He claimed it was because he was cold & Gheorghe hogged the covers, but he wasn’t fooling himself or Gheorghe either.

“No, not yet,” Gheorghe mumbled, his eyes still shut.

“You are. You’re awake,” Johnny screwed up his courage. Maybe this would be easier to do if Gheorghe wasn’t looking directly at him. “How do you say ‘dawn’ in Romanian?” He asked this kind of thing a lot. He was trying to become conversational in Romanian, partially because he liked the idea of being able to talk suggestively to Gheorghe without Deidre or Martin knowing what he was saying, but mostly just because he wanted to understand Gheorghe and communicate with him in every way possible.

“Zori de zi,” Gheorghe sighed, still not opening his eyes.

Johnny thought about how to transition. “How do you say ‘please’?”

Gheorghe smiled. “I taught you that one already.” He had. Indeed, most words that could be used in sexual scenarios, Johnny had picked up pretty quickly. “Va rog.”

Johnny bit his lip. Now or never. “How do you say ‘husband’?” Gheorghe’s eyes popped open at that, and Johnny forced himself to keep going before he lost his nerve. “How do you say ‘marry me’?” Gheorghe looked surprised but not unhappy, Johnny noted with some relief. “Marry me,” he repeated, “I mean it.”

“John—” Gheorghe began slowly and cautiously, and Johnny felt words tumbling out of his mouth almost involuntarily, without thinking.

“I know you’re going to say it’s too soon and that I’m mad, and you’re right. I would’ve preferred to wait a reasonable amount of time but we don’t have it. I want you to be able to stay here without any trouble, and be able to go home to visit and still come back,” Johnny faltered and looked away, his nerves rising in the face of Gheorghe’s silent, slightly concerned expression. “If you want to, that is. I would understand if you didn’t want to, I know I’ve not got much to offer and we can always undo it later if you change your mind—” oh god, he was babbling now. How had this man turned him, of all people, into a chatterbox?

Mercifully, Gheorghe interrupted him. “Are you going to let me answer?” he asked gently.

Johnny nodded, and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Okay,” he choked out. _Please don’t let this be the worst mistake I’ve ever made._

Gheorghe looked pensive, rubbing his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. Finally, he said, “I think I should sign something that says I have no right to the farm.”

Johnny snorted. “You haven’t seen our accounts yet. I was going to suggest you sign something that says you’re not responsible for our loans.”

Gheorghe reached to caress his cheek. “I want to be responsible,” he said, and kissed Johnny softly and sweetly.

Johnny closed his eyes in bliss, and when he opened them again, looked shyly at the man he loved so very much. “Wait. Is that a yes? You will?” His cheeks hurt, and he realized it was because he was grinning so hard.

“Of course I will. I would have asked you already but it seemed like a bad romance novel,” Gheorghe made a face. “The migrant worker comes to dig the gold of the farmer’s son.”

Johnny laughed. “Only gold around these parts, I’m looking right at.” He felt his heart melting like ice in the spring, just like Trish had teased him about, sending a spreading pool of warmth through his chest. So this is what happiness felt like. He really had nothing to offer Gheorghe other than a few dozen sheep, some rocky acres and his own body and soul, whatever those were worth, but he’d willingly give him the entire world if he could. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You are made for me,” Gheorghe whispered back, and kissed him again. “I told you before. I’m not going anywhere.” They made love slowly and tenderly as the sun rose.

***

Johnny missed the scene after breakfast, though he laughed heartily when Gheorghe told him about it later. They must have been making too many moony eyes at each other over the table, because when Johnny went to go let the cows out, and Gheorghe was finishing up his tea, Deidre spoke up.

“I see he finally worked up the guts,” she said dryly, “An’ you must’ve said yes since he looks like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

Gheorghe almost spat out his tea, but recovered quickly. “I did,” he said, feeling a bit awkward. Even with bad eyesight & a million other things demanding her attention on a daily basis, the old woman saw everything!

“That’s nice,” she said, her eyes turning soft, and Gheorghe was moved. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her say anything that didn’t have a touch of sarcasm or sharpness before. “I told him I didn’t raise any fools.” She surprised Gheorghe further by reaching over to pat his hand kindly, and he placed his other hand on top of hers. They looked at each other warmly for a long moment.

“Ta,” she said after that pause, her usual stern voice returning as she snatched her hand away, seeming to remember that she had some urgent task to attend to in another room. “Get on with ye,” she added, pushing up and away from the table, and she looked and sounded so much like John that Gheorghe was suddenly struck with the realization that he loved her too. He silently vowed never to tell her, though; she’d never forgive him.

Yes, it was cold here, and it rained way too much, and half of the time you couldn’t even see the sun through the clouds. The farm needed a lot of repair, and the garden had been neglected for years, and the house needed fresh paint and plumbing work.

But Gheorghe loved it here, every bit as much as he loved the tall, skinny, pale man who lived here — the blustery, shy man who blossomed and blushed and purred like a kitten when he was touched and cared for. And he never, ever intended to leave.

~THE END~

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know any Romanian so those are just Googled words. If anyone knows them to be wrong, let me know so I can edit!
> 
> Of course I had to make Johnny talk to the sheep again.
> 
> Working on a few one shot fics from Georghe’s POV. Stay tuned if you’re interested!


End file.
